


In the Middle of Chaos

by ArcheaMajuar



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: A bit rough sex with tender elements, Anal Sex, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:07:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22799836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcheaMajuar/pseuds/ArcheaMajuar
Summary: Brushing Jaskier’s face, Geralt muttered, “Stay here, Jaskier. I want you to be safe, and if I do not come back in five minutes, go and find some help, alright?”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 5
Kudos: 171





	In the Middle of Chaos

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my mother tongue as I'm from the Czech Republic. There are mistakes in the story, I know, but I don't have anyone around to give me their feedback on the fic, grammar and so on (but if you'd like to let me know about the mistakes, please, do so in the comments bellow or just send me an email (you find it on my profile page), it'd be much appreciated)
> 
> I'm really sorry for the errors, but I hope you'll enjoy this work anyway :)

„You hear them? Or smell them? How do you know they’re inside?” it was a downpour of agitated questions springing from Jaskier’s mouth once the bard and Geralt halted in front of a rather shabby dwelling that couldn’t have possibly been inhabited. At least not by humans because it would suffocate them in a span of a week for the walls were eaten by mould, windows were so dirty Jaskier wasn’t able peek inside even if he would’ve wanted to, and moreover, the smell of rotting wood was unmistakable.

“Both,” admitted Geralt quietly. “But your presence doesn’t make it any easier,” he growled just for its sake as he wasn’t genuinely irritated.

“What do you mean? It was me who convinced the mayor to give you a job! Without me and my song, instead tossing a coin to you, he would’ve tossed a couple of stones in your direction,” Jaskier spat back at his friend who didn’t say anything at first, just the corner of his lips twitched upwards.

“I give you that, but without your incessant babbling and ubiquitous perfume, I would’ve traced the fleders earlier,” said Geralt, pulling out his silver sword.

“Fleders?! I have never seen any of them! How do you know it’s them?” Jaskier immediately forgot about the little quarrel in favour of the exciting monsters, hiding in the house they had arrived to. His brown eyes were sparkling with enthusiasm, and he was almost shaking as if he was eager to get inside, into the deathly danger.

“I don’t know for sure, but on the ground,” he looked on the bottom of the dingy door, “there’s blood. The mayor was talking about people vanishing in this area, and also… fleders are the only lower vampires that seek towns in order to satiate their thirst. Other monsters similar to them usually settle for small villages, or they stay in the woods,” Geralt explained in a low voice. During his speech, he tried to listen and decipher how many fleders could’ve been in the house, but as he had pressumed, this tactics was of no use.

“Awesome! So… they’re real vampires?”

“Fleders,” gnarled Geralt, this time a bit annoyed by the bard’s ignorance. Having prepared his sword, he reached for a small bottle, nestling in the confidence of a pocket on Geralt’s belt. Just to be sure, he checked on the colour of the liquid which was utterly black. “I need to drink this, and then I’ll go inside. Stay here and…”

“Why should I stay here? I’ve handled the mayor and…” Jaskier protested, his big brown eyes pained with disappointment and sharp with anger.

“It’s dangerous, you fool!” snapped Geralt at him, struggling to believe how silly Jaskier was. “You’ll die in the first minute you’ll get inside.”

“But I’m sure you can kill them all in the first minute,” was Jaskier determined to have it his way, but Geralt shook his head, white hair dangling from side to side.

“It’s not about this, Jaskier. I might kill them soon in case there are two of them, but you’ve seen me with a sword, don’t you? You know that I use all the space around me, so maybe not fleders, but it might be me who kill you!” he gritted through his teeth, but he knew very well there was no real rage behind his words. “You’ll stay here, Jaskier. In safety.”

“But how am I supposed to write the best ballads about Geralt of Rivia when I’m not allowed to see him winning a heroic victory over the vicious vampires?” whined Jaskier, resembling a defiant kid for a while. “And I’m not afraid! I do need anyone to take care of me and…”

Geralt refrained from rolling his eyes. He sighed, only half-listening to Jaskier’s arguments because he was already thinking of something else. Undoing the cork of the bottle, he drank the potion called Black Blood, put the empty bottle back into its place, and then, using the time before the potion was going to commence its effect, he focused again on Jaskier.

Somehow, he understood the bard. For the past month, they were travelling through the world, and literally nothing interesting had happened. It wasn’t a bother for the witcher, who quite enjoyed the peace as earlier he had earned quite a sum that should help him survive almost half a year without acquiring another job. However, Jaskier was becoming less and less of himself, not really irritating, not really a smartass, not really a cheerful person. Again, Geralt didn’t mind that the bard was quiet, but as it was so strange about him, it made the witcher worried despite he didn’t want to admit it.

And then, it was even more unbearable to curb his emotions once they arrived here, to Oxenfurt, and Jaskier after quite a while gained some colour into his cheeks, and his eyes literally sparkled with joy once he realized that Geralt needed him. This time, Geralt knew he didn’t want to be the one to spoil his sudden happiness, thus he accepted Jaskier’s help, and frowning, he noticed the growing affection towards Jaskier as he kept him along during the investigation. After all, Jaskier was a beloved poet trusted by people while Geralt was a monster, a mutant, in their eyes, therefore Jaskier was a much better intermediary when discussing what could be going on in the city.

So now, amused, Geralt was looking at Jaskier, who was still talking, and because he sensed the potion was about to kick in, he moved. Gripping firmly Jaskier’s jaw, he saw the flicker of pain in the brown pair of eyes, being replaced by surprise as the strength of the grip eased down. Surprise and awe emanated from Jaskier’s handsome face when the rather abrupt gesture evolved into a rough caress on his pinkish cheek.

Brushing Jaskier’s face, Geralt muttered, “Stay here, Jaskier. I want you to be safe, and if I do not come back in five minutes, go and find some help, alright?”

For a moment, there was probably nothing going on in Jaskier’s mind, his eyes wide and lips parted in shock, but then he nodded. Geralt gave him a brief little smile and using Jaskier’s momentary frozen state, he opened the door and slipped inside of the haunted house.

Just in time, he thought as Black Blood filled his own blood with a substance, poisonous for all vampires. 

XXXXX

Hearing dreadful squeaks from the house, Jaskier found himself back in reality. The very first impulse threw him to the door, but in the next second he realized that Geralt was right about him, tottering in the room and possible getting decapitated by Geralt’s sword. He trembled with fear not only due to this idea, but because of the squeaks changing into a set of hideous cries.

Inhuman cries, Jaskier reminded himself once he started to worry about Geralt, but the sounds he heard weren’t produced by the witcher. Hopefully.

Shaking slightly, Jaskier remained restless outside till all the noises from the house ceased. It was about five minutes after Geralt had entered, but Jaskier believed that his friend survived. It couldn’t have been the other way. It… it... no, it could’ve been like that, he assumed resolutely and gulping, he clustered all of his bravery and opened the door.

The odour of rotting wood punched him into his face, but it wasn’t that bad, so he ventured further, watching his steps as his eyes darted around, hoping to see Geralt in one piece. Eventually, the weight of worries was lifted of his shoulders once he spotted Geralt leaning against the wall, fuming and covered in blood, but alive.

“Are you alright?” he asked, and without thinking, he made his move towards the witcher. Still observing the ground, so he wouldn’t put his boot in anything too gross, he stood in front of his friend, looking up into his face that was even in the apparent dimness of the room significantly pale. Jaskier, however, didn’t mind, and being still deeply moved by Geralt’s gesture before the fight, he came quite close to the witcher, feeling the need to check on Geralt’s condition carefully.

“Yeah,” Geralt nodded, his chest heaving, and only then Jaskier noticed the two little wounds upon his friend’s neck.

“They’ve bitten you!” went his eyes wide again, but he quickly recovered from the shock, and reaching into his pocket, he pulled out an embroiled handkerchief. Staring at the wounds shaped like two dots, the thin streams of blood running out, he placed the piece of cloth on it, his other hand being quite absent-mindedly planted on Geralt’s chest.

“It’s alright. It’ll heal in no time,” Geralt said under his breath, staring down at Jaskier, but didn’t flinch away from his touch. And the bard noticed it together with the fact that… he wasn’t far from being pressed into Geralt’s body, ignoring that he was all sweaty, covered in blood, and under the influence of a potion.

Tentatively, he looked up. At first, he fixed his eyes upon Geralt’s chin, then stopped at his parted lips, his nose, and when he finally locked their eyes, he was already regularly leaning into Geralt, shaking slightly and supressing a meek whimper once a strong arm circled his waist, pulling their bodies together. There was something feral in the look Geralt was giving him, something feral, yet Jaskier didn’t feel in any danger as the powerful witcher was so… so close. He felt he breath upon his face, his piercing gaze, the heat forming between their bodies… Jaskier experienced an intense wave of arousal coiling in his lower belly, spreading into his limbs like a blazing fire, awaking desires toward his hot friend.

“There are no others?” he asked quietly while his eyes were flickering from Geralt’s cat-like eyes to his chapped lips he coveted to kiss more than anything in the world.

“Nah,” produced Geralt a laconic answer, and once Jaskier more heard than saw as the witcher leaned his sword against the wall, he anticipated another touch of the broad hand. He shuddered as it landed at most softly upon his neck, callous thumb brushing his jaw as their eyes locked once again, the lust between them becoming almost palpable. Jaskier’s breath a bit shallower, his trousers going tighter, and he involuntarily grind into Geralt who bared his teeth in the feral smile he flashed Jaskier with.

The bard was struck by another bolt of arousal as his hardness met Geralt’s, and it was also the moment he dive in the obviously mutual desire lingering in the air, and with a low, impatient growl he smashed their lips together in a hurried, hungry, and clumsy kiss, but it was exactly what Jaskier needed. Clinging to Geralt, this time he didn’t refrain from whimpering and moaning into Geralt’s lips. He absolutely loved the broad hands, mapping his back, roaming his body before settling upon his ass, bringing their groins together.

Passionately kissing Geralt, Jaskier let his tongue wander on Geralt’s lips, encountering also his teeth that in a split second sank into Jaskier’s soft lower lip, making the bard whimper once again. He heard Geralt’s silent chuckle, but once the witcher’s tongue met his, Jaskier forgot any thoughts on vengeance.

As Geralt kept kneading Jaskier’s ass cheeks, the bard couldn’t stop himself from pressing his trapped dick into Geralt’s, feeling how hard his friend was and wishing Geralt had something else on his mind. With a loud, obscene sound they parted, and both heavily breathing, Jaskier’s heart throbbed at Geralt expression, suggesting not only how horny he was, but also how much he liked what he saw.

Jaskier still felt Geralt’s lips upon his, and he needed to have them back here, but at once he wanted more, therefore, he quickly made up his mind and reaching Geralt’s belt, he heard Geralt clearing his throat before he spoke up, “You sure you want it like this…? In a house crowded with chopped fleders?”

He might’ve focused too much on his task for he wasn’t sure, but once his fingers brushed Geralt’s arousal, once he, fascinated, took out the remarkable length and palmed it, giving it a few strokes and drawing a quiet sigh from his usually stoic friend…

“Yeah, I want it like this,” he whispered, looking up to the pair of intrigued cat-like eyes there were almost shining in the dimness of the dusty room. “In this mess, in the middle of dead monsters, in the middle of chaos because this is what life with you is like,” he breathed out.

Even Jaskier himself heard how astonished and aroused he sounded, his voice raw with desire, determined, and he knew that Geralt noticed it as well, observing Jaskier with an unreadable gleam within his eyes.

“You love it,” he rasped half-surprised, half-accusing, but with that upon his lips, Geralt seemed to be convinced. In a matter of second he flipped their positions, so Jaskier was now pressing his back to the wall, and Geralt was undoing his trousers before he again gripped on Jaskier’s ass, suggesting what Jaskier happily comprehend.

Hooking his legs behind Geralt’s hips, he let the witcher to hold him, and while the his hot mouth returned to his lips, kissing him hungrily, he felt a finger in near proximity of his entrance that was, fortunately and not so coincidentally, quite used to any kind of… activities.

“I love many things…” Jaskier replied to Geralt’s slightly questioning look, but he wasn’t ashamed at all as there wasn’t time and place for it, moreover, his senses were focused on the second finger, diving into his body and preparing him for something bigger. Panting at the feeling of Geralt’s fingers in his ass, he leaned his scalp against the cold wall and moaned loudly when Geralt’s teeth gently sank into the delicate skin of his neck. “Geralt!” he whimpered, shaking once there were three fingers inside of him, briefly brushing that one spot inside his ass that made him instantly hard as rock.

His hands were clenched in fists, but once the fingers disappeared, leaving him empty and waiting for more, Jaskier looked at Geralt and thought, that next time they had to do this in a bedroom as he yearned to see Geralt’s naked chest again, his belly, his broad shoulders where he wasn’t able to bury his nails now, leaving tiny scars upon the skin because Geralt was, of course, still wearing his armour. But before he could think of anything else, he gasped for air as Geralt’s length started to push inside him.

Jaskier, therefore, didn’t elaborate on what to grip and what not, and simply intertwined his fingers with Geralt’s hair, kissing him once more, robbing him of all the air in his lung, biting him slightly, pulling his hair while Geralt bottomed out, filling Jaskier to the brim. Then he moved, thrust again into him and then again and again, and even though Jaskier didn’t mind the slight pain, he thanked God when Geralt started producing precum and the whole act became smoother, more enjoyable, and fucking hot as Geralt left his wet and swollen lips, attacking his throat with his teeth while the bard kept pulling on his hair occasionally.

“Bloody hell, you’re moaning like the cheapest whore in Oxenfurt,” Geralt growled against Jaskier’s skin, but Jaskier moaned only louder as Geralt’s voice was accompanied by a powerful thrust of his hips, his cock getting deeper.

“Harder!” he shouted and trembling, he realized that Geralt complained, speeding up the tempo, forcing him to just accept his cock, holding him against the wall, biting his neck and making him his whore, which Jaskier absolutely loved. His own dick was bumping on his stomach, with each movement it got some friction, which wasn’t enough, but Jaskier didn’t mind. Almost all of his attention was pointed to the fact that Geralt was fucking him like an animal in this dirty room, his lips and neck wet with saliva, his skin tortured by Geralt’s teeth, and he knew Geralt’s fingers were going to leave imprints upon his ass cheeks.

This was rough and quick sex, and Jaskier was aware they weren’t going to last long as the luxury of long and languid sex was something they couldn’t afford, and because of that, he soon enough sneaked his hand between their bodies. Stroking his dick, he arced his back once Geralt reached particularly deep spot within his ass, and hearing Geralt’s grunts and his heavy breathing, it was clear that their neither the witcher was trying to last. They were blindly pursuing the pleasure, letting their bodies, their desires, their primal lust to control their movements, and thus, after a while Jaskier heard another loud groan ripping from Geralt’s throat. Snapping his eyes open, palming hard his cock, he stared wide eyed at the witcher who looked menacing with his closed eyes, furrowed brows, and bruised lips when he came right into Jaskier’s asshole.

With that remarkable sight in front of his eyes, Jaskier doubled his efforts on his dick, and in a span of a few seconds his load landed on Geralt’s armour and on Jaskier’s belly.

It didn’t took long for Geralt to get back to reality, and puffing, he helped Jaskier to stand again on the ground, but instead of turning away, avoiding any glances or even a conversation, he gently held Jaskier’s jaw and placed a soft kiss upon his lips. The bard wasn’t capable of being shocked, so he just smiled goofily, happily, watching Geralt buckling up his belt and setting his sword back into its place on his back.

“Adjust your trousers,” he said quietly while patiently waiting for Jaskier to grasp his words. “Let’s fetch our reward,” he added, handing Jaskier his own handkerchief, so he could clean himself with it.

Outside, Geralt rolled his eyes at the still present smile, gracing Jaskier’s face, but he didn’t remark on it. It was almost heart-warming to see him like that, however, he knew very well that he could’ve helped the bard earlier, weren’t for his obliviousness towards Jaskier’s needs. And desires. And his ass. And puppy-like eyes.

But after all, now he knew how to aid his friend whom was suddenly humming a melody Geralt had never heard. And the witcher liked the sound of it very much.


End file.
